Death on the Wind

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  A dark wave of dread washed over her and she shivered. Chica was never wrong. She never pointed at a person who didn’t need help or should be watched. She didn’t bark when she didn’t need to bark. She might steal a little frozen strawberry margarita now and then, but she was professional to the core. More than that, she was a unique blend of training and instincts. It wasn’t an even split, either. If Chica said something was wrong, it was.

  But what?

  Chapter Five

  “It kills me sometimes, how people die.”

  ― Markus Zusak

  The speedboats roared across the sea, parasails high in the sky behind them. Ralph and his helper were the farthest out to sea. Kitty wondered if Ralph was having a good time. The man didn’t seem to get much enjoyment out of anything.

  Señor Fernando and the crew were trained on assisting the deaf and were hired by Kitty’s employer several times a year. Of course they couldn’t really communicate, but they knew enough to be observant and watchful in case someone was trying to get their attention. And all of her tour participants lived in a hearing world so they knew how to make their wishes known in the easiest and quickest way possible. There was no reason to think anyone was having less than an amazing time up there near the clouds.

  She shaded her eyes. Juan and his instructor were passing Heather’s parasail. Juan raised a hand to wave but Heather didn’t respond. She was probably focused on the view. Kitty hoped Juan was getting a good video of Heather. Of course, Heather might probably refuse to post it if she didn’t look perfect, but it would be a nice gesture.

  Chica sat up, and Kitty put her hand down to rub her head. The muscles in Chica’s neck felt tight and bunched. Kitty glanced down at her and a high pitched scream filtered through the air. It took Kitty a second or two before she found the source of it.

  Oh, no. NO.

  Heather was dangling from the stabilizer bar by her fingers. Her harness hung uselessly above her. The instructor seemed to be grabbing at her hands, lifting her up… And then Heather was falling. Straight down at first, then end over end. It reminded her of playing mumbledy peg when she was young. She’d throw the pocket knife and it would cartwheel through the air, hopefully landing point down in the target.

  Heather hit the water and it wasn’t feet or head, just flat. The sound of it echoed back to the beach. There was a short silence, and then screaming erupted from all sides.

  Chica was already on her feet and at the edge of the water before Kitty could get out of her lounge chair. Her legs felt numb and unwieldy, as if she were walking on stilts. She stepped into the waves and hesitated. She wasn’t a very good swimmer. Just average. Chica had saved her from drowning in a rough tide not too long ago and the memory of the way the water had tumbled her like a shoe in the dryer had stayed with her. Fear paralyzed her as she shuffled farther into the water, now hip deep. Heather was nowhere to be seen.

  She felt a sharp pinch on her palm and looked down to see Chica tugging her backward, hand in her jaws. “You should go,” Kitty whispered. But she didn’t mean it. Chica drew her backward toward the beach.

  Out of the water, the first waves of shock receded and the noise around her blared into focus. Screams and shouts, the roar of several jet skis racing to where Heather had fallen. A small crowd was gathering, staring out to where the boats were reeling back in the parasailers. Kitty hoped they knew better than to pass back through the area Heather had fallen. If by some miracle she hadn’t sunk like a stone, they might run over her.

  Someone touched her arm and Kitty looked to see Penny and Elaine beside her, matching expressions of horror. Toto broke from her training and went to sit as close to Chica as possible, placing her back against Chica’s side. The whites of her eyes were showing and her gaze darted this way and that at the panicked tourists. The screams were clearly unnerving her. Chica didn’t glance at Toto. She was still watching the sea.

  “What do we do?” Penny asked, her face pale.

  “Pray. They’re― they’re already rescuing her,” Kitty said, pointing at the lifeguards. They were slowly circling the jet skis in the area Heather had disappeared.

  “She’s not alive,” Elaine said.

  “We don’t know that.” But she did. They all did. Even as they stood in a small circle and prayed for Heather, they knew. You couldn’t fall thirty four stories and survive, even over water. Kitty had a sudden, deep stab of grief for this woman who would never figure out that being kind was better than being rich or pretty. She hadn’t liked Heather at all, but she’d been so young. There were lessons left to be learned. She thought of her upcoming wedding, her fiancé, her family. Surely she had been loved.

  “Who did it?” Penny said, glancing back at the bar.

  “Who? What do you mean?”

  “It was murder, dear.” Elaine looked as frightened as Toto.

  “Don’t be silly. It was an accident. A terrible, awful tragedy.” Of course, Heather would be an excellent candidate for murder. She was imminently unlikable, had stolen someone’s boyfriend, bullied her friends, mocked their weaknesses, and was the daughter of a billionaire businessman that nobody liked.

  “I’m sure someone could have fiddled with the equipment,” Penny said.

  “They check all the equipment several times. I’ve seen them do it. I’ve been on the pier when they attach the harness. Nobody could sabotage the gear and not be noticed.”

  Reagan appeared next to them. She was pale and didn’t sign a word. The gold lettering of her T-shirt sparkled in the sun. Drunky. Kitty hadn’t seen her drinking much of anything on the trip. Was she a recovering alcoholic? Was it an inside joke? Heather didn’t seem like she knew how to make a joke, only a dig. The shirt looked menacing now. Had Reagan been pushed to murder by Heather’s cruelty?

  “I’m so sorry,” Kitty said. “They’re going out there now. They’ll find her. She’ll be―”

  “She’s gone.” Reagan let her hands drop again. Her eyes were dry. Duke nosed her hand and she rested her fingers on his head. “She’s gone, buddy.”

  Lacy hovered behind Reagan, Tink clutched in her arms. Her face was screwed up in grief, and she paced back and forth. She was so distraught that Penny took pity on her and guided her toward a chair.

  Later, Kitty wouldn’t be able to clearly recall much of the next hour or so. Just the phone calls. The first was to Tavish, the captain. He was her friend, and although there was a protocol in place for when a guest died or suffered an accident, Kitty knew he wouldn’t be irritated that she had called him first.

  His shock and horror mirrored her own. She assured him she was okay, even though she was numb and shaking.

  Next, she texted Anne and asked her to return to the pier.

  On our way. Please make them bring Juan in right now.

  I can see them. They’re coming. It will take a few minutes. Kitty hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to know the answer, and then texted, Aaron and Nicky okay?

  They didn’t see. Maybe just heard. They were bored watching Daddy and started building a sand castle.

  Kitty glanced around her. Anne wasn’t in sight. How far away are you? Should I send one of the resort employees with a four wheeler?

  No, we’re not far. Just behind some palm trees.

  Kitty went a little further down the beach. There were too many people listening now. This kind of tragedy made it into the papers and she didn’t want anyone passing along her conversations.

  Her next call was to the American Embassy. The kindly young woman on the phone said they would send someone right away. Kitty closed her eyes, wishing she could go back to the moment she’d woken up, and done something to have it all turn out differently. More than that, she wished she could request Leander Estornell, but he was based over in Playa del Carmen, over an hour away. Or at least that had been the address on his letter. Maybe he’d only been there the day he’d posted it.

  “The police are already here,” Kitty said, gathering her nerve. “I wou
ld feel much more comfortable with someone from the Embassy present when they take our statements.”

  “Of course,” the young woman said. “We’ll send someone right away. They should be there in a few minutes.” Her voice was kind. Kitty wondered how many times she had to have conversations like this, with Americans who had just had their vacations turn into a living nightmare.

  “Thank you,” Kitty said, and hung up.

  She wanted to stay where she was, under a palm tree and out of the way, but she knew she couldn’t. Walking toward the tour group, she motioned them to follow her. Penny helped Lacy to her feet, and Elaine took Reagan’s hand. Judy was visibly shaking and Kitty wondered if she was going into shock.

  “I think we need to stay together. The police will want to ask questions and I’ll need to be there to help translate.”

  “Déjà vu,” Penny signed.

  “But this is different.” She tried to look confident.

  Anne and the children were heading toward them. Aaron looked confused and Nicky was mutinous, probably because she’d had to leave her sand castles. The speedboats were docking at the pier and Juan jumped onto the cement walkway, jogging toward Anne. She dropped the beach bag from her shoulder and ran to meet him. They embraced, standing there together for several minutes until the rest of the crew started down the walkway. Juan let go of his wife and they greeted one of the young men. All three looked tense and nervous.

  Anne caught Kitty’s eye and Kitty motioned for her to come over. If her last experience was any indication, they were going to be separated very quickly by the local police.

  Ralph followed them, looking somber. “I don’t know what happened. That’s not what I wanted to happen,” he said. His wife tried to give him a hug but he stood stiffly, his arms at his sides.

  “Poor Luis,” Anne said.

  “Who’s Luis?” Penny asked.

  “My cousin. He was the instructor with Heather.” Juan watched the crew talking to the police.

  “More like a second cousin,” Anne signed quickly. “He doesn’t even really know him. I’m sure it wasn’t his fault.”

  “It’s just an accident. Really terrible, but an accident,” Ralph said. “I saw it. She was hanging on by her hands and the instructor was trying to grab her …”

  Lacy let out a loud sob and buried her face in Tink’s fur.

  “I think I caught some on my video,” Juan said, tapping his camera. “Maybe they can just watch it and we won’t all have to be interviewed. I mean, what do we know? It’ll be much easier to just give them the video.”

  Kitty looked at the others and they were nodding. She wanted to believe it as fervently as they did, but something was very wrong. She would never have Chica’s instincts, but her gut told her Heather’s fall wasn’t as innocent and straightforward as they all wanted to believe.

  “When are we going back to the ship?” Nicky asked.

  They all looked to Kitty. She steeled herself and signed, “In a bit. We have to talk to the police. I know they’ll want to ask questions. It’s just the way it works.”

  “I’m hungry. I want a grilled cheese sandwich.” Nicky glared at her.

  “Oh, honey.” Anne rubbed her daughter’s shoulders and she started to cry. “They’re just children. They’ve suffered through enough. Can’t they just go back to the ship?”

  “I’ve already called the Embassy and they’re sending someone out to meet us. I don’t want anyone to speak to the police until we have a representative present. We need to be careful that due process is followed and that our rights are protected.” Kitty saw Judy looking worried and hastened to add, “It will all be okay. They’re going to need to take statements about the accident. That’s all.”

  The group settled into chairs and watched the officers questioning the parasailing crew. Kitty felt terrible for Señor Fernando. The man looked devastated.

  After a while, the police looked in their direction, and Kitty wondered if she should call the Embassy again. She didn’t relish the idea of telling any official that they wouldn’t cooperate until they had representation. In Mexico, opposition to the police and a request for representation was regarded as an admission of guilt.

  “Kitty?” a familiar voice asked behind her.

  Leander looked just the same: strikingly blue and green eyes, dark suit and tie, dress shoes. The shock of white hair at his temple, the most obvious sign of his Waardenberg’s Syndrome, was covered by a hat. When they’d first met, she hadn’t been sure he’d had a personality, let alone a sense of humor. The more questions she’d asked, the more mysterious he’d become. In the end, she’d discovered that a kind, intelligent, and witty individual had been lurking behind the official appearance all along.

  She realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. It was an improvement that she didn’t jump or throw anything. She stood, and held out her hand. She desperately wanted to tell him how very glad she was to see him, but didn’t. “I thought you lived in Playa del Carmen,” she said.

  “There’s an Embassy office there.” He took her hand and, to her surprise, pulled her close. She folded into his arms, grateful for the reassurance.

  He whispered into her ear, “I’m glad you’re okay. I’d like you to be the interpreter again, okay?”

  He held her a few moments longer. When he released her, she nodded. The first time they’d met, Kitty had assumed Leander was sent to help them because he held degrees in psychology, criminology and forensics. In truth, he’d been assigned to the investigation because he also signed fluently. When he’d seen Kitty could translate from Spanish to English, and then sign for the group, too, he took a back seat. He observed the group dynamics, pretending not to understand what was said right in front of him. He’d been wary of trusting Kitty at first, but when Chica proved to always be a step ahead of the investigation, he’d decided to take a risk on them and share details about the case. Leander, Kitty, and Chica had made a good team and, although they were in mortal danger an unhealthy number of times, they’d solved the murder before anyone else was hurt.

  “Hey, Chica,” he said, reaching out with the back of his hand ready for her to sniff. She didn’t seem to need a re-introduction, turning her head so he could rub behind her ears.

  “Hi, Penny. Hi, Elaine,” Leander said.

  “Our favorite detective.” Penny looked at Kitty and wiggled her eyebrows. “Second chances and all that.”

  Kitty blushed. A woman was dead. Nobody liked her, true, but Penny’s suggestion that now Kitty and Leander should develop some sort of romance was out of line. It would be strictly business, as it was last time. There was a rather large part of her that wished for a few days with Leander where they weren’t dealing with police and coroners, but that just wasn’t in the cards.

  Right after Leander introduced himself to the group, an older man in uniform joined them. He had a large paunch and a neatly trimmed mustache. His eyes were bleary, as if he’d just awoken from a nap. He was flanked by two officers. None of them looked friendly. “I am Chief Sonora. You will need to come to the station―” He’d noticed Kitty signing as he spoke and gave her confused look. “And give your statements.”

  “Of course,” Kitty said, stepping forward. She introduced herself, explaining that she was the group’s interpreter, for Spanish and for sign language.

  “And we’ll both need to be present for each interview,” Leander said, offering him his identification.

  The Chief looked annoyed. “We don’t need the embassy involved in every statement. You can go take care of paperwork.”

  “That’s already being handled. And we will both need to be present at each interview,” he reiterated clearly.

  The chief puffed up his chest and said, “I decide who’s in the room.”

  “The agreement between our two countries says that any disabled person may bring a service dog and have an interpreter, if needed. Unless you have an officer who can sign?” Leander’s tone was congenial but
he wasn’t going to allow the group to be questioned alone.

  He huffed into his mustache. “Fine. We’re all going back to the station.”

  It was clear the chief wasn’t going to make this easy. She caught Leander’s eye. It was a terrible situation, but she couldn’t help feeling utter relief that he was there. Maybe she would feel the same with any other Embassy representation. Maybe she was simply glad not to be the only one responsible for this group. But she suspected it was a lot more than having an official by her side. Leander was her friend, and she trusted him. “Thank God you’re here.”

  “Starling and Swift, take two,” he said quietly, giving the barest wink.

  As they trudged toward the police van, Kitty’s blush turned to irritation at herself. She needed to stop acting like a sixteen-year-old. It was just a wink. A wink could mean anything. It could mean that she needed to be careful with these officers. Or that she needed to stop signing at Leander. Or it could mean he had something in his eye. That was more likely. Especially since he hadn’t even responded to her letter.

  As they settled into the cracked naugahyde seats, she saw Leander get into his shiny black Embassy car. She was starting to think her job wasn’t so glamorous after all. It was the second time in as many months that she was riding in a police vehicle of dubious cleanliness on her way to being questioned about a crime.

  Chica rested her head on Kitty’s lap and blinked up at her.

  “Yeah, I know I’m having a pity party. I should be thinking of Heather and her family. I should be praying harder for everybody. This stinks,” she whispered, rubbing Chica’s ears. Her brave service dog could step into a K-9 role without so much as a backwards glance at her days of chasing tennis balls on the beach, but Kitty was finding the transition a little more troublesome. She really just hoped there was a hot shower, dinner, and a Bingo game at the end of this terrible day. Lord, help me to think of others right now…and to see clearly. Something about this situation isn’t right.